by Kelly Long
Kate noticed Fran sitting down alone on one of the Kauffmans’ living room couches. Now is as gut a time as any to tell her that I’m starting work tomorrow, I suppose . . . But she felt nervous as she approached her cousin’s wife and also knew why—the only “rent” she and Ben paid for their cabin was the help that Kate gave to Fran around her haus, and working for Sebastian would surely make that more difficult. In fact, Kate knew that many women wondered what there was for her to do for Fran, with such a small household, but Kate knew Fran still sometimes suffered from depression over the loss of her baby and found it difficult to manage now and then.
So, Kate approached the other woman with hesitation. But, to her surprise, Fran gave her a wan but welcoming smile and motioned for her to sit down.
“Is everything all right?” Kate asked cautiously.
“I’m not feeling too well, actually. I think I ate too much of that delicious ham. . . . But I’ve been wanting to talk to you, Kate.” She lowered her voice. “You see, what Bishop Umble said today about faith and being sure of what you hope for really seemed to speak to me, to my life and the way I’ve been living.”
“How so?” Kate wondered aloud with interest.
Fran’s eyes teared up a bit. “I realized that I’ve been living too much in the past and have not been grateful enough for the present moment. I know that what I want is to be happy and have peace now and to let the past go. And you’re part of my peace now, Katie . . . I—I haven’t always been kind to you or even nice at times, but it was because I was so blanketed in my own sorrow. I want to tell you now that I’m so glad you and Ben are here, and I want you to know that I think I’m going to be able to give you more time to work in your own life because I feel ready to be a wife again to Daniel and to keep his home.”
Kate stared at Fran in disbelief at Gott’s provision.
“What’s wrong?” Fran asked rather anxiously.
Kate smiled widely. “Nothing. But I have some news to share with you, too. . . .”
CHAPTER 5
On Monday morning, Kate nervously gathered cleaning supplies in a bucket and hitched up the small cutter sled that she used to take Ben to school.
“Do I get to kumme to Herr Christner’s today after school?” Ben asked eagerly as they started off.
“I’m not sure; I’ll find out,” Kate answered in absent tones, her mind on doing a good job.
She dropped a still-questioning Ben off at school, grateful for the Mountain Amisch teacher, Jude Lyons, as he came to help her bruder down and up the specially built ramp at the schoolhaus.
Then she drove on, guiding the horse and sleigh out to Sebastian’s cabin. She tied the horse to the hitching post out front, then climbed the steps, clutching her supply bucket while a moment of nerves almost prevented her from knocking on the door.
But Kate gasped when the cabin door was eased open and she saw Sebastian wince at the shaft of incoming light. He looked terribly sick, his auburn hair clinging to his forehead in damp swirls; he had dark bruise-like circles beneath his blue eyes, and his chest and feet were bare.
“Kumme in,” he muttered hoarsely.
“Uh—Herr—I mean, Sebastian, are you ill? Should I go and fetch Sarah King?”
Sarah, the new young healer on Ice Mountain, had taken over for beloved Grossmuder May, who had passed away the previous spring.
He waved away her words weakly and widened the door an inch more. “Nee, it’s just a migraine. I get them now and then.... I told you to start today and you can.” He visibly shivered at the cold and she hastened inside.
She heard his grateful sigh when he closed the door on the daylight; the cabin was in darkness with the shades drawn and no lanterns lit.
She took a hesitant step forward and ran full-tilt into his bare chest. It was like touching oak covered in warm satin, and she jerked her hand back instinctively.
“Uh . . . sorry,” he mumbled. “I’ll light a lamp.”
She waited while she sensed him move deeper into the room, and the flare of a match soon became the warm glow of a lantern. But Sebastian rubbed at his temple as if even the small circle of light was too much.
“Kate, I’m going to lie down and sleep this off. Feel free to work as little or as much as you like—you can just straighten up a bit maybe. I’m sorry things are such a mess.... I, uh . . . sorry—I feel dizzy. . . .”
He fled the dim circle of light and soon she heard a door close, leaving her clutching her bucket handle in indecision. Perhaps I really should go to Sarah King; she could at least send him something to ease his pain. . . .
Her mind made up, Kate set her cleaning supplies down and quietly slipped from the cabin.
Sarah King lived about half a mile from Sebastian in a rather secluded cabin. Kate knew she could take the horse and sleigh most of the way there but would have to hike the last hundred feet or so. She was glad she’d worn her sensible black boots, even though they only covered her up to her ankles. Still, her knitted stockings were warm and she hastily moved through the light snow falling to untie Janey, her faithful sorrel horse.
She navigated with ease through the snow on the dirt road that was crisscrossed with other sled tracks fast being filled in by the snow. She passed Ben Kauffman’s general store and then the school, and soon she saw the healer’s cabin perched on its rocky ledge. She got out and tied Janey’s rein to some low-hanging bare branches, then began the climb upward. She slipped only once, sliding down and coming back up with a cold mouthful of snow. She sputtered, floundering, then regained her footing and soon knocked at the wooden door.
Sarah King welcomed her with a bright smile.
“Kate, kumme in,” Sarah invited. “Would you like some hot cocoa? I hope everything’s going well—Ben’s not ill, is he?”
Kate shook her bonneted head, inching toward the open fire’s warmth with grateful feet. “Nee, Ben is well. It’s—it’s actually Sebastian Christner. He’s got a bad migraine and is feeling quite poorly.”
“Ach, nee . . . I hate migraines.” Sarah moved to the large cabinet in the kitchen that was filled with mysterious bottles and vials and dried bunches of herbs. Kate watched as the other girl began to mix various crushed herbs and dried flowers in a small wooden bowl. “Is his stomach upset, too?”
“Uh—I’m not sure, but he said he was dizzy.” Kate felt herself blush, wondering if Sarah was privately questioning how she knew that Sebastian was ill, but the healer seemed to find nothing out of the ordinary and Kate began to relax.
“You’ll have to brew him a tea using these herbs—I’ve got feverfew and butterbur here as well as some mint. Make sure he drinks a full cup and quickly—it should bring him relief in a short time.” Sarah handed her a small brown bag of pungent herbs, and Kate tucked it inside her wool cloak.
“Danki, Sarah. I appreciate your help,” Kate said, smiling.
Sarah dimpled in return. “And I appreciate that you have been granted access to the mysterious Sebastian Christner’s life. I don’t think he would have let you see him sick if he didn’t trust you. People don’t usually want to be vulnerable unless they’re with someone they like.”
Once more, even though Sarah’s tone held no curiosity, Kate felt herself color hotly. To think . . . he might like me.
She bade the healer a gut day and felt that she fairly floated out the door, not minding that the once-light snow had now become mixed with freezing rain, making her climb back down to the sled even more difficult. Still, she managed to untie Janey and urge her back out into the slippery lane, anxious now to get to Sebastian with some relief.
The persistent striking of ice against the cabin roof only served to aggravate the pain in Sebastian’s head; he felt entirely miserable. He lay, alternately shivering and sweating, on his bed, too exhausted to get another blanket from the wooden chest across the room. Instead, he wondered vaguely if it would be inappropriate to holler and ask Kate for a cup of tea—it certainly wasn’t something he’d expect from a hau
skeeper, but then the thought of actually raising his voice made him realize he was narrisch, and he drifted instead into a fitful sleep....
It was high summer; night—replete with lightning bugs, a chorus of grasshoppers, and the baritone of a mature bullfrog echoing from the creek. The placid moonlit dark was broken only by the soft sounds of pleasure that came from the back of his throat as he kissed the Englisch girl he’d just met at a baseball game. He was nineteen and it was his rumspringa; he’d stuffed his Amisch clothes in the back of his buggy and changed into jeans and a T-shirt for the game. Now he sat with the brown-haired girl near the age-old pond and worked his hands through her hair.
“Take off your shirt,” she whispered and he complied eagerly.
Then she was returning his kisses with hot vigor and he groaned aloud.
“Touch me,” he managed to get out. “Please touch me. . . .”
When Kate got back to the cabin, she slipped off her soaking boots and longed to strip off her wet stockings but refrained. Instead, she hung up her bonnet and cloak and lifted the lantern to navigate in the direction of where she thought the kitchen might be. Truth be told, it was hard to tell because the cabin was such a wreck—clothes, half-finished toys, and drawings on large sheets of paper cluttered the place. When she got to the kitchen, it was even worse, with dirty dishes overflowing the pump sink, old food in kettles on the woodstove, and again, more drawings littering the table.
He must be so involved and focused on his work that he has no time for such things as cleaning and cooking . . . the poor man probably hasn’t had a square meal in weeks. She let her thoughts drift for a few moments until she located the teakettle, then set the lantern down and got to work lighting the woodstove. It took a while to get the water boiling, and in the meantime, she rolled up her sleeves and managed to stack the dirty plates as well as gather together the silverware that was buried in the sink.
When the teakettle whistled softly, she turned with a clean mug and got out the fragrant herbs from her apron pocket. He seemed to have no tea strainer about, so she used a piece of muslin she found in a drawer, stretching it over the mouth of the mug and straining the hot water through the healing herbs. Once done, she lifted the lantern again along with the hot mug, and began to make her cautious way in the direction Sebastian had gone earlier.
She reached what she surmised to be the bedroom door, and realized she had no way to knock with her hands full. She gave the wood an experimental bump with her hip and, much to her surprise, it gave under the pressure, easing open without a sound.
“Sebastian?” she whispered, stepping deeper into the room. She almost tripped over a pair of boots and the hot tea sloshed over her hand. “Ouch!” she said, unable to contain herself.
Then she realized he’d stirred on the bed as she heard the intimate rustle of sheets moving. She swallowed hard, reminding herself that she was there to help him, and lifted the lamp higher.
Sebastian lay facedown on a massive carved oaken bed with his head pillowed on his arms. The sheets were tangled loosely around his hips, and his back was bare, well-defined musculature tapering to lean ribs and waist and then . . . She almost fled the room.... What would Fran say if she knew I was in a room with a half-naked man? And what a beautiful man at that . . . He’s so . . .
“Please,” Sebastian muttered suddenly from the bed.
Kate froze in midstep. Please. Please what?
She watched him shift his head a bit, rubbing it against his arms, and realized he must be deep in pain and speaking without thought. Bolstered by the need to help him, she approached the bed once more and set the lamp down on the floor so the light wouldn’t bother him too much. Then she gently touched his shoulder, unable to control the shiver of pleasure that went through her at the sensation of his skin beneath her fingertips, before she pulled away.
“Sebastian? I have some tea here for you—it will help.”
He made a choked sound against his arms and groaned. “Please . . . touch me.”
Kate felt her world spin. What is he saying?
He moved restlessly and some instinct made her put her hand back on his shoulder. Suddenly she became aware of the deep tension in his muscle, and she realized that he must surely be asking for help. She set the teacup on the table beside the bed and leaned over him, thinking briefly of how she’d massaged Ben’s legs after the accident. Now, her capable fingers found the knots of tension in Sebastian’s back and shoulders with ease and she began to apply varying degrees of pressure. His response made her swallow and silently ask Gott for forgiveness....
Sebastian knew, in some vague part of his brain that wasn’t registering pain, that he was dreaming—dreaming deeply and without restraint in a way he’d not allowed himself to do for a very long time. The feminine touch on his shoulders was fast making his headache recede and was creating in its place a feeling of abandon and wanting that he normally repressed.
He shivered when she touched his neck and couldn’t help arching his back under the hypnotic pleasure, then felt her touch his hair for a moment. He turned with a groan, pulling this dream girl down to him, wanting her small and full against him. He eagerly sought her mouth with his own. Her lips were soft, unresponsive even, and he couldn’t understand why she didn’t give as he was desperately trying to do. He grew frantic, slanting his head and kissing her with all of the finesse that he remembered from rumspringa until her soft, hot sigh told him that she was enjoying his mouth.
He ran his hands down her body, and she squirmed against him, further enticing him, though he was surprised that her dress was wet and he felt frustrated by the damp barrier.
“Take this off,” he ordered, feeling a smile touch his lips. It was his dream and he planned on having as much pleasure as his mind could devise.
He cupped his hands around her full, phantom breasts and a squeak of protest ricocheted through his consciousness, causing him to still, then attempt to open his eyes.
His dream fast evaporating, he realized the girl from his thoughts had become a living body that pulled away from him to scramble upright next to the bed.
He lifted his head in the mellow light and stared blankly up at Kate Zook. Her breasts strained against her dress with each rapid breath, and her rich, brown hair had worked loose from her kapp to tumble over her shoulders. Even in the shadows, her soft mouth appeared reddened, and he put his fingers to his own lips in both acknowledgment and confusion. He shook his head, his headache fast reappearing, and lowered his hand to the sheets.
“Kate—what? I—dear Gott—I’m sorry . . . Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head. “Nee,” she whispered. “I—I brought you some tea for your headache.”
Her voice shook a bit, which made him feel even worse, but he refused to let himself break his gaze with her. “Kate . . . I was dreaming and . . . Look, I—I’ll marry you.”
The thought terrified him, but he realized that it was the only thing he could honorably offer after what he’d done, but to his surprise, Kate sniffed, then half-smiled.
“You’ll do no such thing, Sebastian Christner. It was a dream you were having, and I got tangled up in it by accident. You don’t owe me anything. No one but we two will ever know, and if it makes you uncomfortable, I—I’ll stop being your hauskeeper.”
He couldn’t help the feeling of relief that surged through him at her words. It wasn’t that he didn’t find her attractive, but he had too dark a past for any woman to bear.... He expelled a slow breath.
“Nee, sei se gut, Kate. Please keep the job—I need the help.”
She nodded, obviously glad, then turned away a bit to start to repair her hair. His eyes drifted down the curve of her back and hip, and he had to mentally shake himself in disbelief at the desire coursing through him. He sought for any diversion.
“Uh, Kate . . . is this the tea?”
CHAPTER 6
By Wednesday, Kate had found her feet at her new job. True, she had some distracting feelings w
henever her mind drifted back to those moments in Sebastian’s arms, but she told herself that it had been an accident—nothing more. The fact that he’d offered marriage had come from a misguided sense of honor, she reminded herself sharply, and she told herself that she was more than content to be his hauskeeper. Still, if he ever did choose to marry, Kate knew she wouldn’t be able to go on working for him—the idea of him with another woman simply didn’t bear thinking about....
In truth, though, Sebastian spent most of the day in his workshop and barely paused to eat. However, he had picked Ben up from school twice now and had begun to introduce her bruder to the mysteries of the workshop—a place she had not been invited to see as of yet.
“Not that I need to see it,” she murmured aloud now to his empty cabin. “I have more than enough to do here.”
It had taken her nearly three days to thoroughly clean the kitchen, and as she got to her feet after giving a last swipe to the drying hardwood floor, she decided a nice lunch for Sebastian might be in order, and she began to poke in the cupboards with interest.
“Got a special message fer ya.” Tim Garland held out a folded note and Sebastian took it absently. “ ’Tis from Dr. McCully down Coudersport Hospital way; he seemed a mite upset.”
Sebastian turned his attention from his workbench and opened the note. Dr. McCully was a friend to the Amisch of Ice Mountain and many went to see him when their ills became too difficult for Sarah King to manage. If the doctor was sending a message, it was probably important. Sebastian scanned its contents, then blew out a long whistle of a breath and ran a hand through his hair.
“What’s it say?” Tim asked, shrugging out of his coat and hopping onto a stool.
“The hospital’s annual Holiday Hoopalooza is this Saturday, and the computer guru who was supposed to do a light show for the kids who have cancer can’t make it.” Sebastian sighed. “Dr. McCully wonders if I might come instead and bring some toys for the patients. There are three kids on the cancer unit—two boys and a girl.”